Golden Sphere
by Heidal
Summary: The war repeated thrice in his life. Last time he was nothing more but observer. Every master died and Holy Grail remained untouched, it corrupted people and land around it... but still he needed to find it. What for?
1. Golden Sphere

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or series.

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**Golden Sphere**

_Emiya "Red" Shirou, Age 31..._

The valley had cooled overnight, and by dawn it was actually cold. They were walking along the embankment, stepping over the rotten ties between the rusty rails, and Red watched the drops of condensed fog glisten on Alice's leather jacket. The girl was striding along lightly and merrily, as though the exhausting night, the nervous tension that still made every vein in the body ache, and the two horrible hours they spent huddled back to back for warmth in a tortured half-sleep on top of the hill, waiting for the flood of the green stuff to drip past them and disappear into the ravine - as though all that had not happened.

A thick fog lay along the sides of the embankment. Once in a while it crawled up on the rails with its heavy gray feet and in those places they walked knee-deep in the swirling mists. The air smelled of rust, and the swamp to the right of the embankment reeked of decay. The fog made it impossible to see anything, but Red knew that a hilly plain with rubble heaps surrounded them, and that mountains hid in the gloom beyond. And he knew also that when the sun came up and the fog settled into dew, he would see the downed helicopter somewhere on his left and the ore flatcars up ahead. And then the real work would begin.

Red slipped his hand up under the backpack to lift it so that the edge of the helium tank would not dig into his spine. It's a heavy bugger, he thought. How am I going to crawl with it? A mile on all fours. All right, no grumbling now, you knew what you were getting into. Five hundred thousand at the end of the road. I can work up a sweat for that. Five hundred thousand sure is a sweet bundle. I'll be damned if I give it to them for less. Or if I give Buzzard more than thirty. And the bitch? The bitch gets nothing. If the old bugger had told even half the truth, the bitch gets nothing.

He looked at Alice's back again and watched through squinted eyes as the girl stepped over two ties at a time. Her dark raven hair, like her sister's, bounced rhythmically. She asked for it, Red thought grimly. Herself. Why did she beg to come along so persistently. So desperately.

She trembled and had tears in her eyes.

"Take me! Lots of people have offered to take me along, but they're all no good! My father... but he can't take me now!" Red forced himself to drop the memory.

He was repelled by the thought and maybe that's why he started thinking about Alice's sister. He just could not fathom it: how such a fantastic-looking woman could actually be a plastic fake, a dummy. It was like the buttons on his mother's blouse - they were amber, he remembered, semitransparent, and golden. He just wanted to shove them in his mouth and suck on them, and every time he was disappointed terribly, and every time he forgot about the disappointment - not forgot, just refused to accept what his memory told him. Then the big fire came... and mother was no more.

Maybe it was his pop who sent her over to me, he thought about Alice. Look at the piece she's carrying in her back pocket. Nah, I doubt it. Buzzard knows me. Buzzard knows that I don't go for jokes. And he knows what I'm like when we go in there. No, that's all nonsense. She's not the first to have begged me, and not the first to have shed tears; others even got down on their knees. And as for the piece, they all bring guns on their first time into the battlefield of the last Holy Grail war. The first and last time. Is it really the last? It's your last, girl. Here's how it works out, Buzzard: her last. Yes, if you knew what your daughter was planning -- you would have beaten her to a pulp with your crutches. He suddenly felt that there was something ahead of them - not far, some thirty or forty yards away.

"Stop," he told Alice.

The girl obediently froze in her tracks. Her reflexes were good - she had stopped with one foot in the air, and she lowered it slowly and carefully. Red stopped next to her. The track dipped noticeably here and disappeared completely in the fog. And there was something in the fog. Something big and motionless. Harmless. Red carefully sniffed the air. Yes. Harmless.

"Forward," he said quietly. He waited for Alice to take a step and he followed.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alice's face, her profile, the clear skin of her cheek, and the determined set of her lips. They were up to their waists in fog, and then up to their necks. A few seconds later the great hulk of the ore cars loomed ahead of them.

"That's it," Red said and took off his backpack.

"Sit down right where you are. Smoke break."

Alice helped him with the backpack, and they sat down next to each other on the rusty rails. Red unbuttoned a flap and took out a package with sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. While Alice set up the sandwiches on top of the backpack, Red took out his flask, opened it, closed his eyes, and took several slow sips.

"Want some?" he offered, wiping the neck of the flask. "For courage?"

Alice shook her head, hurt.

"I don't need that for courage. I'd rather have coffee, if I may. It's awfully damp here, isn't it?"

"It's damp." He put away the flask, chose a sandwich, and set to chewing.

"When the fog lifts, you'll see that we're surrounded by nothing but swamps. In the old days the mosquitoes were something fierce."

He shut up and poured himself some coffee. It was hot, thick, and sweet, and it was even nicer to drink now than alcohol. It smelled of memories. Of English tea. Of Saber. And not just of Saber, but of Saber in her robe, fresh from sleep, with pillow marks still on her cheek. Too bad it's several years old memory, she disappeared... So why did I get mixed up in this, he thought? Five hundred thousand.

And what do I need it for? Planning to buy a bar with it or something? You need money so you don't have to think about money. That's the truth. Rin was right about that. You have a house, you have a yard, you won't be without a job in this city. Buzzard trapped me, lured me like a tenderfoot.

"Red," Alice suddenly said, looking away "Do you really believe this thing grants wishes?"

"I'm too old for fairy tales." Red muttered distractedly and froze over the cup near his lips.

"How do you know what we're after here?"

Alice smiled in embarrassment, ran her fingers through her hair, tugged at it, and spoke.

"Well, I guessed! I don't remember exactly what gave me the clue. Well, first of all, Father was always going on and on about the Golden Sphere, and lately he's stopped. And he has been talking about you. And I know better than to believe Father about you being friends. And secondly, he's been kind of strange lately."

Alice laughed and shook her head, remembering something.

"And finally, I figured it out, when you and he tried out the little dirigible over in the lot." She smacked the backpack that contained the tightly rolled balloon.

"I followed you and when I saw you lift the bag with rocks and guide it over the ground, it was all clear to me. As far as I know, the Golden Sphere is the only heavy thing left in there."

She took a bite out of her sandwich and spoke dreamily with her mouth full.

"I just don't understand how you plan to hook onto it, it's probably smooth."

Red watched her over the rim of the cup and thought how unlike each other they were, father and daughter. They had absolutely nothing in common. Not face, or voice, or soul. Buzzard had a hoarse, whiny, sneaky kind of voice. But when he talked about this, his voice was hearty. You couldn't ignore him.

"Shirou," he had said then, leaning over the table. "There are only two of us left, and only two legs for both, and they're yours. Who else but you? It's probably the most valuable thing in there! And who should have it? Should those wise guys with their machinery get it? Hah? I made it appear. Me! How many of our boys fell there? But I made it! I was saving it for myself. And I wouldn't be giving it to anyone now, but as you see, my arms have gotten too short. There's nobody left but you. I dragged lots of young ones in there, a school full. I opened a school for them, you see... they can't. They don't have the guts for it, or something. All right, you don't believe me, I don't care. You want the money. You get it. You give me as much as you want. I know you won't gyp me. And maybe I'll be able to get my legs back. My legs, do you understand? The Holy Grail war took them away, and maybe it'll give them back?"

"What?" Red asked, coming out of his reverie.

"I asked, do you mind if I smoke, Red?"

"Sure. Go ahead and smoke. I'll have one too."

He gulped the rest of the coffee, pulled out a cigarette, and as he squeezed it, he gazed into the thinning fog. A psyche, he thought. He's nuts. He wants his legs back, the bastard.

All this talk had left a residue, he was not sure of what. And it was not dissolving with time, but on the contrary, it was accumulating. And he could not understand what it was, but it was bothering him. It was as though he had caught something from Buzzard, not some disgusting disease, but on the contrary... his strength, perhaps?

No, not strength. But what then? All right, he told himself. Let's look at it this way: let's assume that I didn't get this far. I was all ready to go, packed, and then something happened, they arrested me, say. Would that be bad? Definitely. Why bad? Because I would lose money? No, it has nothing to do with the money. That this treasure will fall into the hands of Throaty and Bones? There's something in that. It would hurt. But what do I care? In the end, they'll get it all anyway.

"Brrrrrr." Alice shivered. "It gets into your bones. Red, maybe now you'll give me a sip?"

Red got the flask silently. I didn't agree right away, he thought. Twenty times I told Buzzard to get lost, and on the twenty-first I agreed, after all. I couldn't take it any more. Our last conversation turned out to be brief and businesslike.

"Hi, Red. I brought the map. Maybe you'll take a look at it, after all?" And I looked into his eyes, and they were like sores -- yellow with black dots -- and I said "Let me have it." And that was it. I remember that I was drunk then, I had been drinking all week, I felt really low. Ah, the hell with it. Does it matter? I went. So here I am. Why am I worrying about it? What am I, afraid? He shuddered. He could hear a long sad sound through the fog.

He jumped up and Alice jumped up too. But it was quiet again, and the only sound was the gravel tumbling down the incline under their feet.

"Must be the ore settling," Alice whispered unsurely, barely able to get the words out. "The ore cars have a history -- they've been here a long time."

Red looked straight ahead and saw nothing. He remembered. It was at night. He woke up from the same sound, sad and long, his heart stopping, like in a dream. Only it hadn't been a dream. It was Saber screaming in her dream. He knew it all, because he saw it, she was dying on the top of hill. He took Saber's hand. He could feel the sweat break out on her shoulder against his. He lay there and listened, and when Saber stopped crying and went back to sleep, he waited a little longer, then got up, went down to the kitchen, and greedily drank a half-bottle of cognac. But that was long ago... she's not here anymore. She disappeared, that's why he was here after the ball which could grant wishes.

"It's the ore," Alice said. "You know, it settled with time. The dampness, erosion, all kinds of things like that."

Red looked at her pale face and sat down again. His cigarette had disappeared somewhere from his fingers, and he lit another one. Alice stood a little longer, looking around anxiously, then she also sat down.

"I've heard that there's life in there. People. It seems the war caught them here, and they mutated... they've acclimated to the new conditions. Have you heard that, too, Red?"

"Yes," Red said. "But not here. In the mountains in the northwest. Some shepherds."

That's what he's infected me with, he thought. His madness. That's why I've come here. That's what I want here. A strange and very new feeling overwhelmed him. He was aware that the feeling was really not new at all, that it had been hidden in him for a long time, but that he was acknowledging it only now, and everything was falling into place. And everything that had seemed like nonsense and the delirious ravings of a crazy old man turned out to be his only hope, the only meaning of his life. Because he finally understood: the only thing he had left in the world, the only thing he lived for in the last few months was the hope of a miracle. Fool that he was, he kept pushing hope away, trampling on it, mocking it, trying to drink it away, because that was the way he was used to living. Since childhood he had relied on nothing but himself. And since childhood this self-reliance had been measured in the amount of money he could snatch, grab, or bite away from the indifferent chaos that surrounded him. It had always been that way, and it would have continued, if he had not ended up in a hole that no amount of money could get him out of and in which it was absolutely useless to rely on himself. And now this hope -- no longer a hope, but confidence in a miracle -- filled him to the brim, and he was amazed at how he could have lived for so long in the impenetrable, exitless gloom. He laughed and gave Alice a poke in the shoulder.

"Well, girl, think we'll live through this, eh?"

Alice looked at him in surprise and smiled uncertainly. Red crumpled up the waxed paper from the sandwiches, tossed it under the ore car, and lay down, his elbow on the backpack.

"All right," he said. "Let's say that the Ball really -- what would you wish?"

"You mean, you do believe?" Alice asked quickly.

"That's not important whether or not I believe. You answer my question."

He really was interested in what such a young girl, a schoolgirl just yesterday, could ask of the Golden Ball, He enjoyed watching Alice frown, and look up at him and look away.

"Well, dad's legs, of course. And for everything to be all right at home."

"You're lying," Red said pleasantly. "Keep this in mind, sister. The Grail only grants your deepest, innermost wishes, the kind that if they're not granted, it's all over for you!"

Alice blushed, looked up at Red once more, and became even redder. Her eyes filled with tears. Red grinned.

"I understand," he said almost gently. "All right, it's none of my business. Keep your secrets to yourself." He suddenly remembered the gun and thought that while he had the time he should take care of whatever could be taken care of.

"What's that in your back pocket?" he asked casually.

"A gun."

"What do you need it for?"

"To shoot!" Alice said challengingly.

"Forget it," Red said firmly and sat up. "Give it here. There's nobody to shoot at. Give it to me."

Alice wanted to say something, but kept silent, took the Army Colt from her pocket and handed it to Red by the barrel. Red took the gun by its warm textured handle, tossed it up in the air, and caught it.

"Do you have a handkerchief or something? I want to wrap it up."

He took Alice's handkerchief, clean and smelling of perfume, wrapped the gun in it, and put it on the railroad tie.

"We'll leave it here for now. God willing, we'll come back and pick it up. Maybe we'll have to shoot it out with the patrol guards. However, shooting it out with them..." Alice decisively shook her head.

"That's not what I wanted it for," she said sadly. "There's only one bullet. In case of an accident like Father's."

"So, that's it." Red stared at her. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. If that should happen, I'll drag you back here. I promise... Look, it's getting light!"

The fog was disappearing before their eyes. It was completely gone from the embankment and in the distance it was thinning, melting away and showing the rounded bristly peaks of the hills. Here and there between the hills could be seen the mottled surface of the stagnant swamps, covered with sparse thickets of willows, and the horizon, beyond the hills, was filled with bright yellow explosions of mountain peaks, and the sky above them was clear and blue. Alice looked back and gasped with awe. Red looked too. In the east the mountains looked black, and over them the familiar green wash of color billowed and shone iridescently -- the green dawn.

You can't change the past. He thought.


	2. Pledge

_"I found it Shirou, I made it appear." _

_"There are so many tales about it. I spun a few myself. That it would grant your every wish. "_

_"Any wish, hah! If that were true, I sure wouldn't be here. I'd be living high on the hog in Europe. Swimming in dough."_

_"Eternal youth --- like hell I got it." _

_"Money --- the hell with that, too." _

_"But I got health. And good children. And I'm alive. You can only dream about the places I've been." _

_"And I'm still alive."_

_"I only ask for one thing. Let me live. And give me health. And the children."_

---

**Pledge**

Red got up, went behind the ore car, sat on the embankment, and watched as the green wash dimmed and quickly turned to pink. The sun's orange rim came up over the ridge, and purple shadows stretched from the hills. Everything became harsh and in high relief, he could see things as clearly as if they were in the palm of his hand.

Right in front, two hundred yards away, Red saw the helicopter. It had fallen, apparently, into the middle of a mosquito mange spot, and its fuselage had been squashed into a metal pancake. Its tail had remained intact, only slightly bent, and it stuck out over the glade like a black hook. The stabilizer was also whole, and it squeaked distinctly, turning in the light breeze. The mange must have been very powerful, for there hadn't even been a real fire, and the Air Force insignia was very clear on the flattened metal. Red had not seen one in many years and had almost forgotten what the insignia looked like.

Red went back to his pack for the map, which he spread out on the hot mound of ore in the car. You couldn't see the quarry from here _---_ it was blocked by the hill with the burned-out tree on its rise.

He had to go around the hill from the right, along the depression between it and the next hill, which he could also see, completely bare, its slope covered with brown rocks.

All the reference points corresponded, but Red felt no satisfaction. His instincts protested against the very thought, which was irrational and unnatural, of laying a path between two nearby elevations.

All right, Red thought, we'll see about that later. It will be clearer when we get there.

The path before the depression led through the swamp, along open flat ground, which seemed safe enough from here. But looking closer, Red noted a dark gray spot between the two dry hills. He looked at the map. There was an X there, and it said "Whip" next to it in clumsy letters. The red dotted line of the path went to the right of the X. The name was sort of familiar, but who Whip was exactly, and what he looked like, and what he did, Red could not remember.

For some reason, Red could only remember the smoky room, huge red paws holding glasses, thundering laughter, and open jaws filled with yellow teeth _---_ a fantastic herd of titans and giants gathered at the watering hole, one of his most striking childhood memories _---_ his first visit to the Dev's. What had I brought that time? An empty, I think. Right after the big explosion which ended the war, wet, hungry, crazy, with a sack over my shoulder, I burst into the bar and clattered the sack on the counter in front of the innkeeper, looking around angrily, listening to the wisecracks, waiting for the keeper to count the right amount of greenbacks. No, wait, it wasn't green back then...

I waited, put away the money, and unexpectedly, even for myself, took a heavy mug from the counter and slammed it into the closest laughing face. Red smirked and thought: maybe that was Whip himself?

"Is it all right to go between the two hills, Red?" Alice asked in a low voice near his ear. She was next to him looking at the map, too.

"We'll see when we get there." Red kept looking at the map.

There were two other X's, one on the slope of the hill with the tree, the other on the rocks. Poodle and Four-eyes. Those were killed masters, Buzzard allied with them but... well Buzzard is a buzzard. They let their servants die for a promise of the grail. But as they were getting to it...

The path was marked below them.

"We'll see," he repeated, folding up the map and putting it in his pocket.

He looked Alice over.

"Put the backpack on my back. We'll go like before," he said, shifting under the weight of the pack and arranging the straps more comfortably.

"You go ahead, so that I can see you every second. Don't look back and keep your ears open. My order is law. Keep in mind that we'll have a lot of crawling to do, don't suddenly be afraid of the dirt. If I tell you to, drop your face into the mud without any backtalk. And button your jacket. Ready?"

"Ready." Alice was very nervous; the rosiness of her cheeks had disappeared.

"First we go this way." Red waved sharply in the direction of the nearest hill a hundred steps from the rocks. "Got it? Let's go."

Alice heaved a sigh, stepped over the rails, and started down sideways from the embankment. The pebbles rained after her noisily.

"Easy, easy," Red said. "There's no hurry."

He started down slowly after her, automatically adjusting his leg muscles to the weight of the heavy backpack. He watched Alice out of the corner of his eye.

She's scared, he thought. She must sense it. If her sense is like her father's, she does. If you only knew how things were turning out, Buzzard. If you only knew, Buzzard, that I took your advice this time.

"This is one place, Shirou, that you can't go to alone. Like it or not, you'll have to take somebody with you. I can give you one of my people who's expendable."

You talked me into it. It's the first time in my life that I agreed to something like this. Well, maybe it will turn out all right, he thought.

Maybe, somehow, it will work out. After all, I'm not Buzzard, maybe I'll figure something out.

"Stop!" he told Alice.

The girl stopped ankle-deep in rusty water. By the time Red got down to her, the quagmire had sucked her in up to her knees.

"Do you see that rock?" Red asked. "There, under the hill? Head for it."

Alice moved on. Red let her get ten paces ahead and then followed. The mud slurped underfoot. It was a dead swamp _---_ no bugs, no frogs, even the willows were dry and rotten. Red looked around, but for now everything seemed to be in order.

The hill slowly got closer, covering the sun, which was still low in the sky, and finally blocking the entire eastern sky. At the rock, Red looked back at the embankment. It was brightly lit by the sun. A train of ten ore cars stood on it. Some of the cars had fallen off the tracks and were lying on their sides, and the embankment above them was covered with the rusty red piles of the ore. Further on, in the direction of the quarry, north of the train, the air over the track shimmered and undulated, and tiny rainbows exploded and died in the air.

Red looked at the shimmer, spat, and turned away.

"Let's go," he said. Alice turned her tense face to him. "See those rags over there? You're looking the wrong way! Over there, to the right."

"Yes," said Alice.

"Well, that was a guy called Whip. A long time ago. He didn't listen to his elders and now he lies there in order to show smart people the right way. Look just to the right of Whip. Got it? See the spot? Right where the willows are a little thicker. That's the way. You're off!"

Now they were moving parallel to the embankment. Every step brought them to shallower water, and soon they were walking on dry, springy hillocks. The map still showed this as solid swamp. The map's old, thought Red, Buzzard hasn't been here in a long time, and it's gotten out of date.

That's bad. Of course, it's easier to walk on dry land, but it would have been better for that swamp to be here. Look at Alice go, he thought. She's walking like she's strolling down Central Avenue.

Alice seemed to have perked up and was walking full speed. She had one hand in her pocket and she was swinging the other as if out on a stroll. Red rummaged in his pocket, took out a bolt weighing an ounce or so, and threw it at her head.

The bolt hit Alice in the back of the head. The girl gasped, grabbed her head, crouched, and fell into the dry grass. Red stood over her.

"That's how it comes out here, Alice," he pontificated. "This isn't an avenue, we're not on a promenade here, you know." Alice got up slowly. Her face was drained white.

"Everything clear?" Red asked. Alice gulped and nodded.

"Fine. And next time I'll let you have it in the teeth. If you're still alive. Go ahead!"

The girl could have made it, after all, thought Red. They probably would have called her Pretty Girl Alice. There used to be one called Pretty Boy, his name was Dixon, but now they called him Hamster. The only man to fall into the meatgrinder and live. He was lucky. The fool still thinks that it was Buzzard who pulled him out of it. The hell he did!

You don't get pulled out of the meatgrinder.

He did pull him back all the way, that's true enough Buzzard performed a heroic deed like that. If he hadn't...! Everybody was getting fed up with his tricks, and the guys had told him: you better not come back if you come back alone. That was when they began calling him Buzzard, before they used to call him Winner. Why? That's clear enough.

The winner of the war, the one whose wish actually happened. And not only once.

This grail cloud be real after all. That would explain all of these things that happened around. Burned trees, cursed land, thick mud which acts like acid, weird gravitational changes...

This path is a trial itself.

Red felt a barely perceptible current of air on his left cheek and immediately, without thinking, he shouted: "Halt!" He extended his hand to the left. The current was stronger. Somewhere between them and the embankment there was a mosquito mange, or maybe it extended along the embankment itself: there was a reason why the cars had tilted over. Alice stood as though she had been planted, she did not even turn around.

"To the right. Let's go."

Yes, she would have made it.

What the hell, do I feel sorry for her or something? That's all I need. Did anyone ever feel sorry for me? I guess they did. Rin felt sorry for me. Sakura feels sorry for me. Only I don't get to feel pity.

My choice is always either/or. He finally understood the choice: either this girl, or my Saber.

There was no real choice, it was clear.

If only miracles did happen, some voice said inside, and he repressed the voice with horror.

They went around the mound of gray rags. There was nothing left of Whip. Some distance away in the dry grass lay a long, completely rusted stick _---_ a minesweeper. In those days many people used mine sweepers, buying them up on the quiet from army suppliers, and depended on them like on the Lord God himself, and then two men were killed within a few days, killed by underground explosions. And that put an end to it.

Damn it, it's hot! And this is so early in the morning, I can imagine what it will be like later.

Alice, walking five paces ahead, wiped the sweat from her brow. Red squinted up at the sun; it was still low. And suddenly he realized that the dry grass was not rustling underfoot but squeaking like cornstarch, and it was no longer stiff and bristly, but soft and crumbly _---_ it was falling apart under their shoes, like flakes of soot. And he saw Alice's clear footprints, and he threw himself down on the ground, shouting: "Hit the dirt!"

He fell face down into the grass, and it turned into dust under his cheek. He gnashed his teeth in anger over their bad luck. He lay there trying not to move, still hoping that it would blow over, even though he realized that they were trapped.

The heat was increasing, overwhelming him, enveloping his body like a sheet soaked in boiling water. Sweat poured into his eyes, and Red shouted belatedly to Alice: "Don't move! Bear it!" And he started bearing it himself.

This is hell.

Inferno.

He would have withstood it, and everything would have passed quietly and well, they would have gotten by with a lot of sweat, but Alice couldn't take it. Either she had not heard Red's shout, or she became scared out of her wits, or maybe, she had been baked more strongly than Red _---_ anyway she lost control and ran off blindly, with a scream deep in her throat, following her instinct _---_ backward, The very direction they couldn't take. Red barely managed to rise and grab her ankle with both hands.

Alice fell down with the full weight of her body, raising a cloud of ashes, squealed in an unnatural voice, kicked Red in the face with her other foot, and struggled wildly. Red, not thinking clearly any more through the pain, crawled on top of her, touching the leather jacket with his burned face, trying to press the girl into the ground, holding her long hair with both hands and desperately kicking her feet and knees at Alice's legs and her rear end and at the dirt. He could barely hear the muffled moans coming from beneath him and his own hoarse shouts:

"Lie there, you damned_---_ lie still, or I'll kill you."

Tons and tons of hot coals were pouring over him, and his clothing was in flames and the leather of his shoes and jacket was blistering and cracking, and Red, his head mashed into the gray ash, his chest trying to keep the damn girl's head down, could not stand it. He yelled his lungs out.

He did not remember when it all ended. He understood only that he could breathe again, that the air was air again, and not steam that burned his throat, and he realized that they had to hurry and get out from under the devilish heat before it came crashing down on them again.

He got off Alice, who was lying perfectly still, tucked both her legs under one arm, and using his free arm, crawled forward, never taking his eyes off the line where the grass started again. It was dead, prickly, dry, but it was real and it seemed like the greatest source of life in the world. The ashes felt gritty in his teeth, his burnt face gave off heat, and the sweat poured right into his eyes, probably because he no longer had eyebrows or eyelashes.

Alice was stretched out behind, her jacket seeming to catch on to every possible place. Red's parboiled hands ached, and the backpack kept bumping into his burned neck.

The pain and lack of air made Red think that he was completely burned and that he would not make it. The fear made him work harder with his elbow and his knees.

Just get there, just a little more, come on, Shirou, come on, you can make it, like that, just a little more... you made it like this before...

Then he lay for a long time, his face and hands in the cold, rusty water, luxuriating in the smelly, rotten coolness. He could have lain like that forever, but he forced himself to get up on his knees, throw off the backpack, crawl over to Alice, who was still lying motionless some thirty feet from the swamp, and turn her over on her back.

Well, she used to be a pretty girl. And now that beautiful face was a dark gray mask of baked-on blood and ash. For a few seconds Red examined with dull interest the ruts and furrows made in the mask _---_ the tracks of stones and sticks. Then he got up on his feet, picked up Alice by the armpits, and dragged her to the water. Alice was breathing hoarsely, moaning once in a while.

Red threw her face down into the deepest puddle and fell down next to her, reliving the pleasure of the wet, icy caress. Alice gurgled, moved about, braced herself on her hands, and raised her head. She was bug-eyed, she understood nothing and was greedily gulping air, coughing and spitting. Then she came to her senses. Her gaze settled on Red.

She shook her head, scattering dirty drops of water.

"What was that?"

"That was death," Red murmured and coughed.

He felt his face. It hurt. His nose was swollen, but his brews and lashes, strangely enough, were in place. And the skin on his hands remained intact, but red. Alice was also gingerly touching her face. Now that the horrible mask had been washed away, her face _---_ also contrary to expectation _---_ turned out to be all right. There were a few scratches, a bump on her forehead, and her lower lip was split. But all in all, okay.

"I've never heard of anything like that," Alice said looking back.

Red looked back too. There were many tracks on the gray ashy grass, and Red was amazed to see how short his terrible, endless path had been, when he crawled to save them from doom. It was only twenty or thirty yards from one edge of the burnt-out grass to the other, but in his blindness and fear he had crawled in some wild zigzag, like a roach on a hot skillet, and thank God he had at least crawled in the right direction. He could have gotten into the mosquito mange on the left, or he could have gotten turned around completely. No, that would not have happened to him, he was no greenhorn. And if it had not been for that damned girl, then nothing at all would have happened, he would have gotten blisters on his feet _---_ and that would have been it as far as injuries.

He looked at Alice. Alice was washing up, moaning as she touched the sore spots. Red stood up, and wincing from the pain of his clothes on his burnt skin, walked to a dry spot and examined the backpack. The pack had really taken a beating. The top buckles had melted and the vials in the first-aid kit had burst to hell, and a damp spot reeked of antiseptic. Red opened the pack and started picking out the slivers of glass and plastic, when he heard Alice's voice.

"Thank you, Red! You saved my life!"

Red said nothing. Thanks! You fell apart, and I had to rescue you.

"It was my own fault. I heard your order to lie there, but I was really scared, and when it got so hot _---_ I lost my head. I'm very much afraid of pain."

"Why don't you get up?" Red said without turning around toward him. "That was just a sample. Get up, what are you loafing around for?"

Wincing from the pain of the pack on his burned shoulders, he put his arms through the straps. It felt as though the skin on the burned places had wrinkled up. She was afraid of pain, was she? Shove you and your pain! He looked around. It was all right, they hadn't left the path.

Now for the hills with the corpses. The damn hills, just stood there, the lousy mothers, sticking out like the devil's horns, and that damn depression between them. He sniffed the air. You damn depression, that's the really lousy part.

"See that depression between the hills?" he asked.

"I see it."

"Head straight for it. March!"

Alice wiped her face with the back of her hand and moved on, splashing through the puddles. She was limping and did not look as straight and well-proportioned as she had before. She was bent over and was walking very carefully.

There's another one I saved, thought Red. What does that make? Five? Six? Ten?

And now I wonder why? She's no relation. I'm not responsible for her. Listen, Shirou, why did you save her? You almost got it yourself because of her. Now that my head is clear, I know why. It was right to save her, I can't manage without her, she's my hostage for Saber.

I didn't save a human being, I saved my minesweeper. My master key.

Back there in the heat, I never gave it a second thought. I pulled her out like she was my flesh and blood, and didn't even think about abandoning her even though I had forgotten everything _---_ the master key and Saber.

What does that mean? It means that I really am a good guy, after all. That's what Saber insisted, and Rin used to say, and what Sakura is always babbling about. Some good guy they found!

Drop it, he told himself.

You have to think first, and then use your arms and legs. Got that straight? Mr. Nice Guy. I have to save her for the meatgrinder, he thought coldly and clearly.

We can get past everything except the grinder.

"Stop!"

The depression lay before them, and Alice was already standing there, looking at Red for orders. The floor of the depression was covered with a rotten green slime that glinted oilily in the sun. A light steam rose above it, getting thicker between the hills, and nothing was visible beyond thirty feet. And it stank.

"It'll really stink in there, but don't you chicken out."

Alice made a noise in the back of her throat and backed away. Red shook himself back to action, pulled from his pocket a wad of cotton soaked in deodorant, stuffed up his nostrils, and offered some to Alice.

"Thanks, Red. Isn't there a land route we could take?" Alice asked in a weak voice.

Red silently took her by the hair and turned her head in the direction of the bundle of rags on the stony hillside.

"That was Four-eyes," he said. "And on the left hill, you can't see from here, lies Poodle. In the same condition. Do you understand? Forward."

The slime was warm and sticky. At first they walked erect, waist-deep in the slime. Luckily the bottom was rocky and rather even. But soon Red heard the familiar rumble from both sides. There was nothing on the left hill except the intense sunlight, but on the right slope, in the shade, pale purple lights were fluttering.

"Bend low!" he whispered and bent over himself. "Lower, stupid!" Alice bent over in fright, and a clap of thunder shattered the air.

Right over their heads an intricate lightning bolt danced furiously, barely visible against the bright sky. Alice sat down, shoulder deep in the slime. Red, ears clogged by the noise, turned and saw a bright red spot quickly melting in the shade among the pebbles and rocks, and there was another thunderclap.

"Forward! Forward!" he shouted, unable to hear himself.

Now they were moving in a crouch, Indian file, only their heads exposed. At every peal Red watched Alice's long hair stand on end and could feel a thousand needles puncturing his face.

"Forward!" he kept repeating. "Forward!" He could not hear a thing any more.

Once he saw Alice's profile, and he saw her terror-stricken eyes bulging out and her white bouncing lips and her green-smeared sweaty cheek.

Then the lightning began striking so low that they had to duck their heads. The green slime gummed his mouth, making it hard to breathe. Gulping for air, Red tore the cotton out of his nose and discovered that the reek was gone, that the air was filled with the fresh, piercing odor of ozone, and that the steam was getting thicker, or maybe he was blacking out, and he could no longer see either of the two hills. All he could see was Alice's head sticky with green slime and the billowing clouds of yellow steam.

I'll get through, I'll get through, Red thought; this is nothing new. My whole life is like this. I'm stuck in filth and there's lightning over my head. It's never been any other way.

Where is all this gunk coming from? You could go crazy from this much gunk in one place!

Buzzard did this: he walked through and left this behind. Four-eyes lay on the right, Poodle on the left, and all so that Buzzard could walk between them and leave all his filth behind. That's what you deserve, he told himself.

Whoever walks behind Buzzard walks up to his neck in filth. You didn't know that? There are too many buzzards, that's why there isn't a single clean place left.

Rin is wrong: Shirou, you violate the balance, you destroy the order, you're unhappy, Shirou, in good, or bad. You're not happy when the things are good, nor you are when the things are bad. It's people like you who keep us from having the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.

What do you know? Where have you seen any good? When have you ever seen me having a good time?

He slipped on a stone that turned under his foot, and fell in. He surfaced and saw Alice's terrified face right next to his. For a second he felt a chill: he thought that he had lost his way. But he had not gotten lost. He realized immediately that they had to go that way, where the black top of the rock stuck out of the slime; he realized that even though there was nothing else visible in the yellow fog.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Keep right! To the right of the rock!"

He could not hear his own voice. He caught up with Alice, grabbed her shoulder, and pointed: keep right of the rock and keep your head down.

You'll pay for this, he thought.

Alice dove under at the rock, just as a lightning bolt hit it, smashing it to smithereens.

You'll pay for this, he repeated, as he ducked under and worked furiously with his arms and legs.

He could hear another peal of thunder.

I'll shake your souls out of you for this!

He had a fleeting thought: who do I mean? I don't know. But somebody has to pay for this, and somebody will!

Just wait, just let me get to the grail, when I get to the grail, I'm no Buzzard, I'll get what I want from you.


	3. Things to wish for

**Things to wish for**

----

When they finally scrambled out onto dry land that was covered by sun-heated pebbles, they were half-deaf, turned inside out, and staggering and holding on to each other. Red saw the peeling pick-up truck, sagging on its axles, and he remembered that they could rest in the shade of the truck. They crawled into the shade. Alice lay on her back and began unbuttoning her jacket with limp fingers, and Red leaned his backpack against the side of the truck, wiped his hands against the small rocks, and reached inside his jacket.

"And me, too." Alice said. "Me too."

Red was surprised by the loudness of the girl's voice. He took a sip, shut his eyes, and handed the flask to Alice. That's it, he thought weakly. We got through. We got through even this.

And now, accounts payable upon demand. Do you think that I forgot? No way, I remember it all. Do you think I'll thank you for letting me live and not drowning me? You get zilch from me. This is the end for all of you, get it? I'm not leaving any of this.

From now on, I make all the decisions.

I, Emiya Shirou, being of sound mind and body, will make all the decisions for everybody.

And as for all of you, buzzards, rins, sakuras, sabers, kotomines, bloodsuckers, green-backers, masters and servants, humans, in your suits and ties, clean and fresh, with your briefcases and speeches and good deeds and employment opportunities, and your eternal batteries and eternal engines and mosquito manges and false promises _---_ I've had enough, you've led me by the nose long enough. All my life you've led me by the nose, and I thought and bragged that I was living the way I wanted to, fool, and all the time you were egging me on and winking among yourselves, and leading me by the nose, dragging me, hauling me through jails and bars. I've had it! He unsnapped the straps of the pack and took the flask from Alice.

"I never thought..." Alice was saying with meek disbelief in her voice. "I couldn't even imagine. I knew about death and fire and all, of course, but something like that! How are we going to get back?"

Red was not listening. What that thing was saying no longer had any meaning.

It had no meaning before, either, but before it was a person at least. And now, it was like a talking key, a key to open the way to the Grail. Let it talk.

"If we get some water," Alice said. "At least wash our faces."

Red looked at her distractedly, saw the disheveled and glued-together hair, the face smeared with drying slime with finger marks in it, and all of her covered with a crust of oozing slime, and he felt no pity, no irritation, nothing. A talking key.

He turned away. A dreary expanse, like an abandoned construction site, yawned before them. It was covered with broken brick, sprinkled with white dust, and highlighted by the blinding sun, which was unbearably white, hot, angry, and dead. The far end of the quarry was visible from there _---_ also blindingly white and at that distance seemingly perfectly smooth and perpendicular. The near end was marked by large breaks and boulders, and there was the path down into the quarry, where the excavator's cabin stood out like a red splotch against the white rock. That was the only landmark. They had to head for it, depending on dumb luck to guide them.

Alice propped herself up, stuck her arm under the truck, and pulled out a rusty tin can.

"Look at that, Red," she said, livening up. "Father must have left this. There's more under there."

Red didn't reply. That's a mistake, he thought, dispassionately. Better not think about your father now, you'd be better off not saying anything. On the other hand, it doesn't matter. Getting up, he winced: his clothes had stuck to his body, to his burned skin, and now something was tearing inside, like a dried bandage pulling from a wound. Alice also groaned as she got up; she gave Red a martyred look. It was clear that she wanted to complain but that she didn't dare. She only said in a strangled voice:

"Do you think I might have another sip?"

Red put the flask that he had been holding back under his shirt.

"Do you see that red between the rocks?"

"I see it," Alice said and shuddered.

"Straight for it. Let's go."

Alice stretched her arms, straightened her shoulders, grimaced, and said looking around:

"I wish I could wash up. Everything's sticking."

Red waited silently. Alice looked at him hopelessly, nodded, and was about to start when she stopped suddenly.

"The backpack. You forgot the backpack."

"March!" Red ordered.

He did not want to explain or to lie, and there was no need. She would go anyway. She had nowhere else to go. She'd go. And Alice went. She wandered on, hunched over, dragging her feet, trying to pick off the baked slime from her face, looking small, scrawny, and forlorn, like a wet stray kitten. Red walked behind her, and as soon as he stepped out of the shade, the sun seared and blinded him, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and was sorry that he had not taken his sunglasses. Every step raised a cloud of white dust, and the dust settled on his shoes and gave off an unbearable stench. Or rather, it came from Alice, it was impossible to walk behind her. It took him a while to understand that the stench was coming from himself.

The odor was disgusting, but somehow familiar _---_ that was the smell that filled the city on the days that the north wind carried the smoke from the plant. And his father smelled that way, too, when he came home, hungry, gloomy, with red wild eyes. And Red would hurry to hide in some faraway corner and watch in fear as his father tore off his work clothes and tossed them to his mother, pulled off his huge, worn shoes and shoved them on the floor of the closet, and stalked off to the shower in his stocking feet, leaving sticky footprints. He would stay in the shower, grunting and slapping his body, for a long time, splashing water and muttering under his breath, until he shouted so that the house shook:

"Hey! Are you asleep?" He had to wait until his father had washed and seated himself at the table, where a pint bottle, a bowl with thick soup, and bottle of catsup were ready for him. Wait until he had slurped up all the soup and started on the pork and beans, and then he could creep out into the light, climb up on his lap, and ask which shop steward and which engineer he had drowned in vitriol that day.

Everything around him was white hot, and he was dizzy from the cruel dry heat, the exhaustion, and the unbearable pain of his skin blistering at the joints; it seemed to him, through the hot haze that was enveloping his consciousness, that his skin was crying out to him, begging him for peace, for water, for coolness.

The memories, worn to the point of unrecognizability, were crowding each other in his swollen brain, knocking each other over, blending, tumbling, mingling with the white hot world that was flaming before his half-closed eyes, and they were all bitter, and they all evoked self-pity or hatred.

He tried to fight the chaos, to summon from the past some sweet mirage, a feeling of tenderness or cheerfulness. He squeezed out the fresh laughing face of Saber from the depths of his memory, when she was still here, desired and untouched, and her face appeared, but was immediately blanketed by rust and then twisted and deformed, then it disappeared.

He struggled to remember Rin, that sainted woman, her swift, sure movements, her laugh, her voice, which promised unheard-of marvelous places and times, and Rin appeared; but then a silver blade exploded on the sun and Rin was no more, and Sakura's unblinking angelic eyes stared at Red, a porcelain in her white hand...

The dark thoughts festering in his subconscious knocked down the barrier his will tried to create and extinguished the little good that his memory contained, and it seemed that there had never been anything good at all, only ugly, vicious faces.

And during all this time, he never stopped thinking about his current situation. Without realizing it, he recorded somewhere in his nervous system the essential information: that on the left, at a safe distance, there was a jolly ghost over a pile of old planks _---_ it was quiet, exhausted, and so the hell with it; on the right there was a slight breeze, and a few steps later he saw a mirror-smooth mosquito mange, with many arms, like a starfish-far away, no danger _--- _and right in its center, a flattened bird, a rare sight, since birds did not often fly over the former battleground of Holy Grail War; and right by the path there were two abandoned empties _---_ apparently Buzzard had dropped them on the way back, fear is stronger than greed. He saw all of this and took it into account, and Alice had only to stray a single foot from their path for Red's mouth to open and the hoarse warning to fly automatically from his throat. A machine, he thought.

You made a machine out of me.

The broken rocks at the edge of the quarry were getting closer, and he could see the fanciful designs made by rust on the cabin's red roof. You fool, you, Buzzard, Red thought. You're clever, but you're a fool.

How could you have trusted me? You've known me for so long, you should know me better than I know myself. You're getting old, that must be it. Getting dumber. But what am I saying, I've been dealing with fools all my life. And then he pictured Buzzard's face when he discovered that Alice, his sweet Alice, his daughter, that his pride and joy had gone into the former holy grail battle ground with Red after Buzzard's legs. He pictured his face and laughed. When Alice turned her frightened face to look at him, Red went on laughing and motioned her on.

And then the faces crawled across his consciousness again like pictures on a screen.

Everything had to be changed.

Not one life or two lives, not one fate or two _--- _every link in this rotten, stinking world had to be changed.

Alice stopped at the steep descent into the quarry, froze in her steps, straining to look down and into the distance, extending her long neck. Red joined her. But he did not look where Alice was looking.

Right at their feet the road into the quarry began, torn up many years ago by the treads and wheels of heavy vehicles. To the right was a white steep slope, cracked by the heat; the next slope was half excavated, and among the rocks and rubble stood a bulldozer, its lowered bucket jammed impotently against the side of the road. And, as was to be expected, there was nothing else to be seen on the road, except for the black twisted stalactites that looked like fat candles hanging from the jagged edges of the slope, and a multitude of black splotches in the dust, as though someone had spilled bitumen. That was all that was left of them, it was even impossible to tell how many there had been.

Maybe each splotch represented a person, or one of Buzzard's wishes.

That one there was Buzzard coming back alive and unharmed from the basement of Complex #7.

That bigger one over there was Buzzard getting the wriggling magnet out of here unscathed.

And that icicle was the luxurious Dina, who resembled neither her mother nor her father.

And that spot there was Alice, unlike her father and mother, Alice, the beautiful girl, their pride and joy.

"We made it!" Alice rasped deliriously. "Red, we made it after all, right?"

She laughed a happy laugh, crouched down, and beat both fists as hard as she could on the ground. Her matted hair bounced ridiculously, and dried clumps of dirt flew in all directions. And only then did Red look up at the grail. Carefully. With caution. With a hidden fear that it would turn out wrong _---_ that it would disappoint him, evoke doubts, throw him from the cloud that he had managed to scramble up on, and leave him to wallow in filth.

Do I remember it still?

It was not golden, it was more a copper color, reddish, and completely smooth, and it shone dully in the sun. It lay at the foot of the quarry's far wall, cozily ensconced amid the piles of accumulated rocks, and even from that distance, he could see how heavy and massive it was, and how solidly it lay in its place.

There was nothing disappointing or doubt-inspiring about it, but there was nothing to inspire hope either.

For some reason, his first thought was that it was probably hollow and that it should be hot to the touch from being in the sun. It obviously did not glow with its own light and it obviously was incapable of floating up and dancing in the air, the way so many of the tales had it. It lay where it had fallen. Maybe it had fallen out of some monstrously huge pocket or had gotten lost, rolled away during some game between some giants. It had not been carefully placed here, it had been left behind, littering up the Earth like all the empties, bracelets, batteries, and other rubbish remaining after the great explosion in the last Holy Grail war.

But at the same time, there was something about it, and the longer Red looked at it, the clearer it became that it was pleasant to look at it, that he wanted to go up to it, to touch it, pat it, and suddenly the thought came to him that it would be good, probably, to sit down next to it, or even better, to lean back against it, close his eyes, and think, reminisce, and maybe just dream and drowse and rest...

Alice jumped up, tore open all the zippers on her jacket, took it off, and threw it down smack at her feet, raising a cloud of white dust. She was shouting something, making faces and waving her arms, and then she put her hands behind her back, and dancing a jig, headed down the slope. She was not looking at Red anymore, she had forgotten Red, she had forgotten everything.

She was going down to make her wishes come true, the little secret wishes of a blushing college student, of a girl who had never seen any money beyond her allowance, who had been beaten mercilessly if she had a whiff of alcohol on her breath when she came home, and who was being groomed to be a famous lawyer, and in the future, a minister, and in the distant future, maybe more. Red, squinting his swollen eyes against the blinding light, silently watched her go. He was cool and calm, he knew what was about to happen, and he knew that he would not watch, but it was still all right to watch, and he did, feeling nothing in particular, except that deep inside a little worm started wriggling around and twisting its sharp head in his gut.

And the girl kept walking down, dancing a jig, shuffling to her own beat, and the white dust rose from her heels, and she was shouting at the top of her lungs, clearly, joyously, and festively _--_ either a song or an incantation _--_ and Red thought that this was the first time in the history of the quarry that a woman went down there as though she was going to a party. And at first he did not listen to what his talking key was yelling, and then something clicked inside him and he heard:

"Happiness for everybody! ... Free! ... As much as you want! ... Everybody come here! ... There's enough for everybody! Nobody will leave unsatisfied! ...Free! ... Happiness! ... Free!"

And then she was suddenly silent, as though a huge fist had punched her in the mouth. And Red saw the transparent emptiness that was lurking in the shadow of the excavator's bucket grab her, throw her up in the air, and slowly slowly twist her, like a housewife wringing her wash. Red had time to see one of her dusty shoes fall off her jerking leg and fly high above the quarry. Then he turned away and sat down. There wasn't a single thought in his head, and he had somehow stopped sensing himself. Silence hung heavy in the air, particularly behind him, there on the road.

Then he remembered the flask, without particular joy, but just as medicine that it was time to take. He unscrewed the cap and drank with tiny stingy sips, and for the first time in his life he wished that instead of liquor, the flask contained cold water.

Time passed, and more or less coherent thoughts came to him. Well, that's it, he thought unwillingly. The road is open. He could go down right now, but it was better, of course, to wait a while. The meatgrinders can be tricky. Anyway, he had some thinking to do. An unaccustomed exercise, thinking, that was the trouble. What was "thinking" anyway? Thinking meant finding a loophole, pulling a bluff, pulling the wool over someone's eyes_ ---_ but all that was out of place here.

All right. Saber... Make them pay for that, steal the bastards' souls, let the sons of bitches eat what I've been eating...

No, that's not it, Shirou... I mean, that is it, but what does it mean? What do I need? That's cursing, not thinking.

A terrible presentiment chilled him, and quickly skipping over the many arguments that were still ahead of him, he told himself angrily: this is how it is, Shirou, you won't leave here until you figure it out, you'll drop dead here next to the ball, burn to death and rot, but you won't leave.

God, where are the words, where are my thoughts? He slapped his head. I have never had a thought in my entire life! Wait, wait, Rin used to say something like that. Rin! He feverishly dug through his memories, and words floated to the surface, familiar ones and unfamiliar, but it was all wrong, because Rin had not left words behind. She had left pictures, vague, and very kind, but thoroughly improbable. Meanness and treachery.

They let me down in this too, they left me speechless, the bastards. A bum _---_ I was always a bum, and now I'm an old bum. It's not right, do you hear me? In the future, for once and for all, it should be outlawed! Man is born in order to think (there she is, Rin at last!). Only I don't believe it. I didn't believe it before and I don't believe it now. And I don't know what man is born for.

I was born.

So here I am.

People eat whatever they can.

Let all of us be healthy and let all of them drop dead. Who is us and who are they? I don't understand a thing.

And I always wanted to be myself, on my own, so that I could spit at you all, at your boredom and despair.

He finished the dregs of the brandy and threw the empty flask to the ground with all his might. The flask bounced, flashing in the sun, and rolled away. He forgot about it immediately. He sat there, covering his eyes with his hands, and he was trying _---_ not to understand, not to think, but merely to see something of how things should be, but all he saw were the faces, faces, faces, and more faces... and greenbacks, bottles, bundles of rags that were once people, and columns of figures.

He knew that it all had to be destroyed, and he wanted to destroy it, but he guessed that if it all disappeared there would be nothing left but the flat, bare earth. His frustration and despair made him want to lean back against the ball. He got up, automatically brushed off his pants, and started down into the quarry.

The sun was broiling hot, red spots floated before his eyes, the air was quivering on the floor of the quarry, and in the shimmer it seemed that the ball was dancing in place like a buoy on the waves. He went past the bucket, superstitiously picking up his feet higher and making sure not to step on the splotches. And then, sinking into the rubble, he dragged himself across the quarry to the dancing, winking ball. He was covered with sweat and panting from the heat, and at the same time, a chill was running through him, he was shuddering, as if he had a bad hangover, and the sweet chalk dust gritted between his teeth. He had stopped trying to think. He just repeated his litany over and over:

"I am an animal, you see that. I don't have the words, they didn't teach me the words. I don't know how to think, the bastards didn't let me learn how to think. But if you really are...all-powerful...all-knowing... then you figure it out! Look into my heart. I know that everything you need is in there. It has to be. I never sold my soul to anyone! It's mine, it's human! You take from me what it is I want... it just can't be that I would want something bad! Damn it all, I can't think of anything, except those words...

_'HAPPINESS FOR EVERYBODY, FREE, AND NO ONE WILL GO AWAY UNSATISFIED!'_"

End.


End file.
